e
judged by the written record, the more does the tawdriness of Lord
Beaconsfield's mind, his absence of sincere convictions appear, as well
as the pedestrianism of Mr. Gladstone's mind, and his lack of critical
perception. I have heard Mr. Gladstone speak, and on one occasion I had
the task of reporting for a daily paper a private oration on a literary
subject. I was thrilled to the very marrow of my being by the address.
The parchment pallor of the orator, his glowing and blazing eyes, his
leonine air, the voice that seemed to have a sort of physical effect
on the nerves, his great sweeping gestures, all held the audience
spellbound. I felt at the time that I had never before realised the
supreme and vital importance of the subject on which he spoke. But when
I tried to reconstruct from the ashes of my industrious notes the
mental conflagration which I had witnessed, I was at a complete loss
to understand what had happened. The records were not only dull, they
seemed essentially trivial, and almost overwhelmingly unimportant. But
the magic had been there. Apart from the substance, the performance had
been literally enchanting. I do not honestly believe that Mr. Gladstone
was a man of great intellectual force, or even of very deep emotions.
He was a man of extraordinarily vigorous and robust brain, and he was a
supreme oratorical artist.

There is intellect, charm, humour in abundance in the parliamentary
forces; there was probably never a time when there were so many able and
ambitious men to be found in the rank and file of parliamentarians.
But that is not enough. There is no supremely impressive and commanding
figure on the stage; greatness seems to be distributed rather than
concentrated; but probably neither this, nor political conditions, would
prevent the generous recognition of supreme genius, if it were there to
recognise.

In art and literature, I am inclined to believe that we shall look back
to the Victorian era as a time of great activity and high performance.
The two tendencies here which militate against the appearance of the
greatest figures are, in the first place, the great accumulations of art
and literature, and in the second place the democratic desire to share
those treasures. The accumulation of pictures, music, and books makes
it undoubtedly very hard for a new artist, in whatever region, to gain
prestige. There is so much that is undoubtedly great and good for a
student of art and literature